


Soon, Not Yet

by RictusandRot



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Eating Disorders, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Its not technically relevant but its important to me, M/M, Martin Blackwood Gives Good Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RictusandRot/pseuds/RictusandRot
Summary: Stress has Jon slipping into a relapse. His assistants aren't oblivious to this.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 137





	Soon, Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

> TMA has been my Special interest for over a year but this is the first fic I've actually posted. Very much a vent fic, please be kind. If something needs tagged please let me know, I hope you enjoy. TW For ED, starvation, implied self harm in the form of starvation.  
> (Also the timeline technically is season 3 but Tim and Sasha are fine and the archives crew isn't angry at each other because I say so.)

Jon stared at the rapidly cooling tea as it spread across the break room counter. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to will back tears. Ridiculous. It was just tea. 

He sighed and grabbed a flannel hanging from a cupboard door, willfully ignoring the shaking in his hands as he began to wipe up the tea. 

"Making a mess boss?" 

Jon jumped and whirled around to face Tim, his vision swirled and he shot a hand out to steady himself on the counter. 

"Woah there." 

Tim reached a hand out, stopping short of touching Jon but keeping his hand there like a safety net. 

"You ok?" 

Jon huffed, swallowing back bile. 

"I'm fine, Tim. Don't you have work to be doing?" 

Tim cocked an eyebrow, 

"I'm on my lunch." 

Jon paused, blinking. Was it that time already? 

"Boss, really are you ok?" 

Jon shook himself again, trying to focus. 

"I'm fine Tim, just a bit tired." 

Tim took a long moment before he nodded. 

"If you say so, have you eaten?" 

Jon felt his stomach turn. The answer was no, of course. But he wasn't going to tell tim that, he didn't feel comfortable lying either, for some reason. 

"I'm quite capable of feeding myself Tim, thank you very much." 

He started out the door and hoped the waver in his voice had seemed terse and not like the words had still been too close to a lie for his liking. 

\- 

".. statement ends." 

Jon pressed the record button, watching it pop back into place as the whir of the tape stopped short. Statements were draining on the best of days but the words had begun swirling on the page and Jon felt like an ice pick was being driven into his frontal lobe. Ironic given the statement seemed to surround the spiral, though this didn't feel like some phantom lobotomy. No, unfortunately it felt like a headache from far too long with little rest and no food. 

Jon slid his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers and willing the headache to ease. A knock startled him, and sent another shock of pain through his body. 

"For God's sake, what?" 

His voice was hoarse, shaky still. The door opened just slightly and Martin's curls preceeded the rest of his face as he peeked in. 

"Finishing up, soon?" 

Jon felt a stab of impatience again, he was a grown man and didn't need Tim, Martin, or Sasha telling him when to go home or eat. 

"I will be finished when I'm finished Martin. Its no concern of yours." 

Martin's brow furrowed, but there was something more than just hurt at Jon's sharp words. Worry, maybe. 

"OK, just- try to get home early. Can't work hard if you're worn out you know?" 

He chuckled nervously. Jon furrowed his brow. Martin was right. To be honest it may be best, he could feel the shaking returning, the cycle of hunger pains to numbness coming back around to spite him. It would be easier to collapse into his own bed then onto the hard floors of the insitute. And God knows how his assistants would react if they found him passed out. 

"Yes, well- perhaps you're right." 

Jon stood and Martin blinked, looking surprised. 

"Oh really? I mean good. Good!" 

Jon shot him an unimpressed look and hoped that the hand he held on his desk wouldn't shake too hard as he stood. Martin opened the door wider, 

"I'll walk with you-" 

"No!" 

Jon interjected, then quickly trying to recover, 

"No thats not necessary I have to make a few stops before I get to the tube." 

Martin had that look again, too knowing for Jon's liking. Maybe he was just being paranoid. 

"OK, well. Get home safe, ok?" 

Jon nodded, tersely. 

"Yes, yes. You too." 

Martin nodded, giving a small smile before slipping out. Jon let out a shaky breath, grabbing his things with trembling hands. Home then. 

\--- 

The blaring alarm from Jon's phone pierced his head and he shot up, regretting it immediately as the rooms swayed. He felt a moment of guilt. It had been almost 44 hours since he'd eaten, and he felt almost proud of that. Which only fueled the guilt further. It had been a while since he had felt this deep in it. But stress had always made the feelings flare up again. 

He stood cautiously and made his way to the bathroom. A warm shower would help with some of tensing in his muscles. 

Once that was done and he'd dressed, careful to wear more than one layer and slightly bigger clothes than usual, he stepped into the main room. He picked up his bag and then looked into the kitchen, staring for too long of a moment before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Later, he'd eat later. 

\-- 

Was Jon's office always this cold? He pulled his sleeves down around his hands, feeling angry at himself. He was frustrated that this amount of time without food was making him so sick. When he'd been in the thick of his... disorder, he'd been able to go far longer than two days before feeling too strong of symptoms. But as recovery had gone along slowly the symptoms presented sooner and sooner. How long had it been since he'd gone this long with nothing? 

He stared at his desk for a moment, sharp enough that if someone saw they might think it has slighted him personally in some way. He ran a hand down his face. Hed eat something small, an apple, maybe. Just enough to keep himself from passing out. 

The break room was empty, thank God, and he breathes a sigh of a relief as he grabbed an apple from the small bowl of fruit on the breakroom counter. Something Tim had insisted on, said having it around made things more "homey", which Jon found absolutely ridiculous but he could hardly complain at the moment. 

He washed the fruit slowly, trying to build the courage to take a bite. As he dried it he stared blankly at the wall, forcing himself not to look at the food in his hands. Just as he thought he might have a reached a point where he could take a bite, voices wafted in from the hallway. 

His eyes widened and he stuffed the apple into his pocket, smoothing his jumper so the fabric hid the small bulge on his hip. 

".. no no sash Home Alone is not only a Christmas movie I'd Say it's a staple of Christmas movies- oh hey boss." 

Sasha and Tim turned the corner and both shot him a smile. Jon felt guilt roil in his stomach. What did he have to feel guilty for? A stupid question. 

"Ah- Tim. Sasha." 

The latter opened the fridge, pulling a honest to God metal lunch box from inside, it was decorated with bird diagrams, most likely a gift from Tim. 

"Want to join us for lunch?" 

Jon looked up to Sasha's face, taking a moment to process the question. Lie, deflect, or tell the truth? Hm. 

"Ah. Not hungry at the moment, thank you." 

Tim looked like he was going to say something but Jon darted away before he could. Lie it was then. 

\-- 

Smoke curled out over his fingers, the glow from the cigarette fading as the cool air reached it. The nicotine eased the pain in his head slightly, it worsened the shaking but the sharp ache in his stomach numbed as the smoke curled in his mouth, into his lungs. 

He felt tears prickling once again. He felt tired, cold, and angry. He felt weak. He couldn't recover, he couldn't just starve, there wasn't a good answer and it *hurt*. 

He slid down the wall, the brick scratching on the wool of his jumper almost covering the small sob from his throat. He let the cigarette hang limply from his fingers as it steadily burned down to the filter. Tears were sliding down now, not many but enough for him to feel, and he just felt so tired, lifting his hand to wipe them away felt almost too much. It all felt too much, and he wanted to curl up and sleep, but honestly sleep felt wrong during these moods too. Not that he got much of it anyway. 

The sounds of traffic outside the alley was like white noise, and he tried to force his mind to drift, to go blank for a moment. A sound cut him off, no, a voice. 

"-on? Jon are you ok?" 

He looked up, black spots danced and he blinked them away. Martin was standing over him, wringing his hands, eyes wide and concerned. 

"Oh- are you- you're crying." 

He seemed shocked and upset and Jon felt even more guilt build and he swallowed back a small sound of pain. 

"I'm fine." 

Liar. Martin's face shifted a bit, he looked determined, worried, but determined. 

"How long has it been since you've eaten Jon?" 

Jon blinked, that was.. very direct. He could lie and say he ate earlier or that he wasn't sure. But the truth was he did know, it was 50 hours and 27 minutes, give or take. 

"Martin-" 

Martin seemed to sense where it was going and cut him off. 

"You don't have to tell me, but I know it wasn't today. Or at least not at work but I'm willing to bet you didn't eat this morning either." 

Jon's silence was answer enough. 

"Jon, you need to eat." 

That was it, the last straw and frustration spilled from his lips, emotion building and then crashing over, but instead of angry his voice came out pained. 

"I can't! I can't Martin, I cant." 

Christ, he was actually crying now. Martin's lips parted and he dropped down, almost kneeling. He reached his hands out, stopping short, but fluttering looking for something he could do to help, to comfort. 

"OK Jon, sh, it's ok." 

Jon felt himself collapse in. There was a pause and then Martin said softly, 

"Jon can I hug you?" 

Jon looked up, eyebrows pressed together in confusion. The idea of Martin touching him, hugging him, it was.. a lot. But not all bad, actually more good if he was being honest. His voice came out small, and shaky. 

"Yes." 

Martin moved softly, like he was afraid he might panic Jon. He'd feel offended if he didn't feel a bit grateful. Martin's arms were warm, and Jon suddenly realized that Martin was much bigger than him. He knew this objectively of course, but the other man always took great pains to make himself seem smaller. Which Jon though, at least privately while in the safety of Martin's arms, was a tragedy. Martin was safe, he felt a shock of emotion at that too. Martin must have felt him swallow back another sob, and he tightened his arms. 

It ended too quickly, though much longer than could be considered appropriate for coworkers or acquaintances. Martin pulled back just enough to look at Jon's face, never directly in his eyes, which Jon was very grateful for. He hated eye contact. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Jon was conflicted, yes he did, but also he absolutely would rather do anything else. The silence stretched. 

"Would it help if I told you what my guess is?" 

Jon looked at him, and blinked slowly. That sounded perfect actually. 

"Yes." 

Martin nodded, settling a bit but not letting go. 

"I'm guessing this isn't the first time you've had days like this, but it's been a while, yeah?" 

That was- scarily accurate. He nodded. Martin smiled softly, encouragingly. 

"Thats why it's effecting you so much right now?" 

Another nod. 

"How-" 

Jon tried to look for the right words, but Martin seemed to know. 

"I know." 

The smile on Martin's face was a bit sad now, and Jon blinked. The realization that Martin did know, *exactly* how it felt was heavy and made his chest squeeze painfully. 

"Oh- Martin." 

His assistant shook his head, 

"Don't, I'm ok. Really. But, you aren't right now. At least today right?" 

A pause, and another nod. 

"I can't eat- at least not just yet. It'll be worse if- I" 

Jon frantically tried to find the words to explain and then dropped his eyes frustration and fear building again. Martin looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. 

"OK, not yet. Soon, if we can. But not yet." 

We. That was good, Jon couldn't pinpoint why but it was. 

"Tim and Sasha suspect too, you know. I didn't say anything but.." 

Jon sighed- 

"Suppose I can't expect that a group of researchers wouldn't pick up on rather obvious signs." 

Martin laughed and then covered his mouth, as if trying to hold it back. It was cute. Jon smiled, and tugged his hand down. 

"I'm sorry." 

Martin leaned forward, and Jon fell into him, letting the warmth seap into his fingers and chest. 

"Nothing to be sorry for." 

They stayed there for a bit longer, the cigarette smell dissipating as the minutes passed. He didn't want to get up, to leave the embrace, to eat. He didn't want to, but he would. Not yet, though. Soon, but not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Relapses happen, over a decade and I still deal with it. Guilt doesn't make it better though, takes time. If you relate to this fic, I hope you find the comfort equivalent of Martin hugs <3


End file.
